Hearts Under Fire
by Mazz84
Summary: "you're fooling no-one with that accent,mr stark." "funny.i was gonna say the same about that dress,mr holmes." the sequel to Ironman of Seduction is here,hopefully with monthly updates. reviews are always welcome. Mazz.x DUFN
1. Chapter 1

At the moment this is going under the title Heart's Under Fire (I was listening to song with same name by Lea Luna), but that might change. A fair warning for any who do fave, or if you have any suggestions for a better title please get in touch.

_Summary._

_I don't have one at present. All I can say is that it will be an M eventually, Tony/Sherlock pairing with maybe a little Tony/John thrown in._

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Chapter 1

High above the city four slim-lined shapes screamed through the clear skies. The red and gold one in front, that was unmistakably Iron-Man (AKA Tony Stark) weaved between glistening glass and steel towers just managing to squeeze through the gap before a huge explosion ripped a big chunk out of the one on his left. Iron-man chanced a look back, not realising how close the other three had gotten, and ended up with a fist in the face.

"UGH! You sneaky bitches are gonna pay for that." Iron-Man tumbled towards the ground, at the last second firing up his jets and managing to avoid becoming a metal pancake. Tony gritted his teeth shooting straight up at the other three, who darted out the way like scattering rats. "What the hell is this shit?" Yelled Tony. He turned hard right to avoid crashing into the side of a very expensive looking building, once clear he turned and fired off a round of mini rockets from his wrists. "Jarvis? Where are those specs I ordered?"

"_**I'm sorry for the delay, sir. I have to information you requested." **_

"You're a star. Let me see, then." The HUD lit up with numerous blue-prints and calculations. "Huh. Would you look at that, Jarvis? They look like me, act like me and have more fire-power than me. But I have one advantage."

"_**And what would that be, sir?"**_ JARVIS drawled.

Tony smirked in the darkness, "They're _**not **_me." Coming to sudden halt Iron-Man held out his arms, as two of his pursuers passed he held onto their ankles. Firing up his rockets boots the three of them engaged in a bizarre version of tug-of-war. Thinking fast, and recklessly, Tony diverted as much power as he could spare to the arc reactor in his chest. "Sorry to cut this short. Normally I'd never pass up a chance for a three-some with such pretty ladies but you've gone and pissed me off." He could feel the power growing steadily in his chest, after calculating that the outcome; he set his jaw ready for the pain that was coming. Shooting a single beam from the RT heart his eyes widened spotting the struggling knocks-offs as they both released a shot from their palms at the same time. _**Oh, this is gonna hurt.**_ All three were caught in the highly unstable energy bubble which exploded with light and noise, throwing them in different directions.

Iron-Man awoke a short time later, the suit slightly dented but in one piece and working. Tony wobbled into a sitting position flipping open the mask and surveying the damage around him. Fury was gonna be pissed at paying the bill but was he worried? No. Getting to his feet Tony spotted a pile of smoking, tangled metal and sparking circuits not too far from his position and hopped over the roof-tops. Standing over the ruined suits he frowned, "I _**really**_ hate it when people steal my things."

He kicked at the wrecked pieces of metal in a vain attempt to find anything salvageable and was in luck. Finding a semi-complete head he knelt for a closer look and was stunned at what he found. The face-plate was missing the top right side exposing the inner workings and they did, indeed, looked horribly familiar. The HUD scanned the head, blowing apart the schematics and Tony groaned loudly. Picking up what was left of a foot he turned it over and his eyes narrowed catching the remains of an imprint. "Little bitch did it. She made the suits completely un-manned. She-" the HUD flashed with red warning lights, nearly blinding him causing him to drop the foot. "There's always one left." Standing Iron-Man turned on the spot looking up at the sky. "Jarvis! Where is she?"

"_**Target is directly above you, sir. I'm detecting a surge of unknown energy within the area. Advised caution on approach, sir."**_

"Thank-you, mother hen. I will." He blinked slowly. He hadn't heard that expression since… but why had he said it now? Face-plate down and boot-jets firing he flew up in a direct line, past the remaining roof-tops, through the fine cloud banks until… "There you are, sweetheart. Where have you been all my life?"

The last Iron-Woman knockoff, looking sinister in black and pink: eyes and RT heart glowing red, was floating in the clear skies, as if waiting for him. Her palms were flickering with RT energy but to Tony it looked wrong somehow. He stopped a few meters away, "I am glad you could join me, Antony. My creator sends her regards." Drawing her hands up above her head a bubble of white and purple electricity grew from her palms; it crackled and flickered as it expanded. Once it was the same size as a truck she lowered her hands and hovered, staring into the pulsing orb of light and bleeped a few seconds later. "Mission target acquired."

_**What the fudge?**_ Iron-man looked around confused and then waved his hands. "Uh, _**hello**_! I'm right here." The Iron-Woman ignored him, still staring at the orb's centre. Then, with-out another word, she fired up her rockets boosters and disappeared into the light. The ball hissed and shimmered and Tony suddenly got a very bad feeling. "Jarvis, you there?"

"_**I'm here, sir."**_

"Do me a favour and scan that shiny ball, will ya? I got the shivers…and not the good kind." It was quiet in the HUD for the longest seconds of his life. "Uh…Jarvis?"

"_**I regret to inform you, sir, that some of my systems have been compromised due to being at close proximity. But I can tell you this strange energy is only known as N.Z.E."**_

Realization made Tony blink, "That's neg-zero energy, Jarvis. I've seen this sort of thing just once before…" The HUD flickered, little red warning lights flashed up in the corner. He knew it was dumb but if _**she**_ was involved it wasn't going to be good for him in the long run. Tony shot off, pushing his arc reactors power to its limits, heading straight for the light. "Jarvis execute emergency programme POTTS56A and download all you can from file STARK221B. Do it NOW!" Nothing. "Jarvis!"

"_**Command accepted and full download complete, sir."**_

Iron-Man smirked, "Good to have you along, buddy. Don't know what's going on but I got a pretty good idea where we'll end up. Hold on tight!" Entering the light a soft whistle left his lips as he looked around. "Jarvis, are you getting this? Where the heck are we?" Could he fly in this place? Tony booted up the palm repulsors a tiny bit and inched slowly forward sighing deeply as he found that he could. Far away from his position what appeared to be storm clouds grew and thunder boomed echoing in the vast space. The HUD flashed red again and a little marker blinked into existence. Tony squinted in the dazzling lights and was able to make out a black shape in the distance hurtling down the bright tunnel. "Jarvis try and lock on to her heat signature. Do what-ever you can to follow. Understand?" Jarvis quickly calculated the Iron-Woman's probable movements and projected them onto the HUD. Iron-Man adjusted to match, a little wobbly at first but after to find his balance increased his speed to give chase and immediately let out a piercing scream as the unstable negative forces tried to crumple and squeeze him like a lemon. The HUD flickered again, a tiny 10 appeared in front of his eyes and started to countdown, "I'm not giving up!"

"_**Systems at 75 per cent and falling."**_

Lighting scratched the armour's surface, the de-pressurization was becoming too much but Tony gritted his teeth and held on. "I'm not giving up!" He shouted again. The bluish hue of the tunnel grew brighter and brighter, fine lines of static electricity danced along the metal casing of the suit. Tony closed his eyes as the brightness grew too much, his ears popped twice and every bone in his body felt like it was going to break…

* * *

"Uugghh. Where am I? Is this hell?" The HUD was completely blacked-out. Tony forced his limbs to move and scrambled to a kneeling position, taking a couple of deep breath he slowly straightened and regretted almost at once as the world span around him. "Ooh, my head. Jarvis, you there? How're we holding up?"

"_**Life support at 62 per cent. Advised that you dis-continue use of the suit, sir."**_

"That. Is a very good idea, Jarvis." Tony wiggled his fingers. The face-plate of the suit drew back revealing his pale and sweaty face. From the neck downwards the suit continued to fold into itself until a red and gold suitcase sat at his feet. A tiny side panel opened, reaching in Tony picked up the silver ear-piece and hooked it into place. "OK, buddy. I'm not a genius for nothing and, this is just a guess, I'm going to say what we just passed through was a worm-hole. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong." Jarvis stayed quiet and he smirked. "OK…looking around I think we ended up in an un-used warehouse of sorts. Hard to tell with the lights off. I wonder if there's a fire escape 'round here?" Trying not to fall over in the dark Tony found a wall and with one hand on it, the other carrying the briefcase, found some rickety stairs in a corner. Forcing open the rotting door at the top Tony closed his eyes taking a great lungful of cool, crisp air. When he opened them again he nearly dropped the case onto his foot. "Holy crap…"

The scene below him was something from an old fashioned Christmas card (minus the snow of course.). The warehouse looked over a vast river where tiny tug-boats trundled steadily along pulling long lines of barges of scrap metal and other kind of cargo. To his left a stood a magnificent suspension bridge that connected the two banks. Along its top many carriages were being pulled along by horses, people were riding push bikes or simply walking.

"_**Sir, are you alright?"**_ Tony was quiet still taking in the scene. _**"I could shock you if you like."**_

"That won't be necessary. I'm just…It's just…I'm here and somewhere out there so is _**he**_. Jarvis…I have to, no scratch that, I _**need**_ to see him." He looked over the roof's ledge for a suitable way to get down without using the Iron-Man suit.

"_**Sir, need I remind you that the threat of the Iron-Woman is still out there. I have lost her signal. I believe she's gone into stealth mode."**_

"She's got stealth? I don't have stealth!" Tony pouted, "That's so unfair! Stupid Chloe." He huffed and looked down at his clothes: black trainers, smart grey trousers and a black button-down long sleeve shirt were fine for the 20th century but not for the late 18th. "Right. This is what we're gonna do; first, we're getting off this roof. Second, I need to find a new get-up, something that will cover my heart. And third, we need to head over to Baker Street."

"_**Any particular number, sir?"**_

Tony smirked, "221B."

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**More next month. **


	2. Chapter 2

_**To those who have added to faves and alerts… a big thank-you!**_

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Chapter 2.

After spending the night in the dilapidated warehouse Tony nosed around at first light for anything useful. The first two rooms he found were nothing but empty husks, broken furniture and rubbish everywhere. There was a lone door at the end of the short corridor that was locked: a quick kick to the rotting wood sorted that out, a smirk flickered across his lips after the dust settled. _**Jack-pot.**_ Iron-Man case in hand he wondered in what looked like the remains of an office of some kind. Carefully setting the case on a desk he uncovered a small tin box containing a small collection of coins—he didn't how much-a rusty watch on a chain and (luckily) some old clothes and a flat-cap stuffed in a ratty sack. He emptied the sack, carefully putting the Iron-Man case inside and tying the top securely. Holding up the clothes he checked them for damage, he couldn't find any shoes but figured the trousers were a bit on the long side and would cover his trainers. Tony stripped quickly; his own clothes left in a pile at his feet, and tugged the old fashioned shirt over his body. The shirt fell just shy of his thighs and felt cool against his skin. He grinned to him-self: if any-one did happen upon him half naked they would be in for one hell of a show.

Fighting the bubble of laughter that was threatening to come out Tony lifted his head and caught sight of him-self in a broken widow, he frowned slightly: his arc rector was shining through the thin material of the shirt. Throwing open cupboards and digging around in boxes he pulled out a wad of cotton-wool and a couple of rolls of dusty bandages. _**Perfect.**_ Quickly un-buttoning the shirt and slipping it off his shoulders he nabbed the pad of cotton-wool and placed it over his glowing heart, holding it in place with one hand and wrapping the bandages around his torso with the other. Once that was done he secured the strips of cloths with a safety pin and turned to admire his handy work. The glow of the arc reactor was dimmed by the layers and with the shirt and waist-coat no-body would see it. Nodding in approval Tony gathered up the remainder of his borrowed clothes and dressed; the shirt had a few little holes in the sleeves and was a little creased but other than that it was fine. The trousers and matching waist-coat were made of thick material that itched slightly but he could deal with it for a short while.

Popping in the ear-piece safely away he did a last time check for anything else he could use, finding nothing he quickly stuffed the money and watch into pockets, gathered up his clothes and putting them into the sack with the case. Lifting the bag over his shoulder Tony clambered down the rickety stair-case and, after taking a couple of deep breaths, inched the door open. A huge grin split his face and he eyes lit up with amazement. Last night on the roof-top the scene had been beautiful, but now in the daylight it, was even more breath-taking, even by his standards.

"Oi, watch where ya going, you idiot!" Tony span on the spot coming face to face with a big man with a heavily scarred face. The man took one look at him and instantly paled. "Oh, Mister 'Olmes! I didn't think you'd be back so soon. I know I shouldn't be here after what happen but…My old man…" He lowered his head with a sniff, "After he died he left 'is watch to me and..." Tony nibbled his lower lip and dug around the pockets; his fingers caught the thin chain and tugged it out. The man's eyes widened and watered at the same time. "Mister 'Olmes…you got it back?" He snatched the watch from Tony's fingers and snapped it open, eyes softening at the faded photo inside. "'_**To Freddie, love Martha.**__'_ That's me ma, see?" Tony inched closer and smiled: fair hair, playful eyes and good bone structure, Martha was a hottie. He nodded his approval and stepped back as the other pocketed the watch. "Well, 'Olmes, you seem a long way from home," he jerked a thumb to where a single pony stood hooked up to a beat-up cart, "you need a lift?"

* * *

After a short ride over the bridge Tony bid farewell to his new acquaintance (named Flynn) and joined the crowds mingling in the busy streets to a market-place of sorts. There was so much on offer ranging from meats and fish, vegetables, tools and rolls of cloth…nearly everything. His stomach chose that moment to growl. With a sigh he plucked a pie from table tossing a couple of coins to the vender with a wink. It appeared he was hungrier than he thought and polished off the pie in no time wiping his hands clean on his trousers. It was then he became aware of the three-some standing behind him. Turning his head slightly, catching them out the corner of the eye, and saw one of them jerked his head towards the mouth of an alley-way; Tony shrugged and followed.

He had just stepped into the darkened space when they pounced. One knocked his cap from his head childishly; another made a grab for the sack while the third shoved him backwards. Tony smacked against the wall, the back of his head bouncing off it so hard his vision whited out for a second, losing his footing, and slowly sliding down.

"Should never 'ave come back, 'Olmes." The thugs moved closer, chuckling darkly, cracking knuckles…

Tony frowned through his slightly blurred vision. There were four now? Where had the fourth come from? In between fighting the urge not to fall asleep or throw up, maybe both, he didn't pay that much attention to what happened next, but he _**did**_ remember raised voices. All his focus was on the sack over the other side. With a sad whimper he crawled over and scooped it up in his arms, protecting it against his chest.

He must have closed his eyes because the next thing he knew there was a voice nearby talking to him in soft, heavenly tones. "Why is it that I know when you're in trouble? It's like a sixth sense or something." Two strong hands wrapped around his middle and pulled him to his feet. Tony rubbed the back of his neck as his saviour bent to pick his fallen cap from the road. There came a soft sigh and the hat was plopped back onto his head. "Not much of a disguise, old boy. You still look scruffy," The owner of the voice stepped into his line of sight and grinned, "but a smart scruffy."

Tony stared dumbly a head. Slightly taller and slimmer than him the stranger was leaning on a cane dressed in a three piece suit of grey under a brown trench coat. A smart top-hat perched at an angle on his head, which was such a shame as the brim nearly hid the most bluish-blue eyes ever. Tony studied him closely, the way he held him-self, the smart cut of his short hair and his neatly trimmed his moustache, something about him just screamed Army. Tony blinked, maybe the bump to the head was to blame but he thought the man standing in front of him, in his opinion, was gorgeous.

"My god. You hit the wall pretty hard, didn't you? Let me have a quick look." Two hands cupped Tony's cheeks and titled his head up, then down and then side to side. "Do you know who I am?" The man asked. "Holmes, it's me. It's Watson." Tony's eyes widened to the size of small plates. "Come on: home. I think you need rest."

* * *

Watson (Tony could hardly believe it!) sat opposite him on the way to Baker Street. Tony sat back against his seat watching Watson watching him. Watson coughed quietly and then, with-out warning, aimed a swift kick at Tony's shins.

"OW!" He shouted.

"Serves you right!" Countered Watson with a frown, "Do you have any idea what you've put me through? I've been worried sick! Mrs Hudson has been beside her-self. You left no note, no explanation, nothing! Once again you deliberately with–held your plans from us."

Tony looked at him, eyes big and round. "You were worried about me?" He asked his voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course I was. I always am when you disappear off the face of the Earth." Watson raised a brow and a quirk of a smile, the smile faded when Tony didn't answer. "Is something wrong?"

Tony swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. The look in John's eyes was genuine. This man…cared. His chest tightened, "Watson…" he murmured lowering his head a little. "Watson, I'm so sorry."

"Hey. It's alright. Holmes, look at me." Tony shrank back into his seat refusing to meet the others gaze, trying to plaster his chin on his chest. It was only when he felt a leather covered finger lift his chin up did he move. Brown orbs met blue that softened. "I'm not mad at you, my friend. I've known you too long, and know how to deal with your wandering moods. Just next time leave a note or something." John cupped his cheek a second time, the tenderness of the simple gesture made Tony's face heat up and his chest to tightened some more. "Promise me."

Tony gulped, suddenly lost in those sea-blue pools. He did manage a jerky nod, "I promise, Watson."

Watson nodded back, a small smile on his face and sat back. Tony folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, being lolled to sleep by the swaying of the carriage. He felt very tired and just wanted to sleep. Watson on the other hand wanted to talk. The doctor nudged his foot making him grunt in annoyance. He frowned darkly at him. "So, did you find what you were looking for?" Tony's frowned deepened. "For the case?" Watson clarified. "Did you find what you were looking for?" Blue eyes drifted off to land on the sack propped up beside Tony.

_**Oh!**_ Tony cleared his throat and tried to imitate a British accent, hoping to sound like Holmes, "I did." Watson nodded and he gave him-self a mental high-five. He didn't sound that bad, a perk working with a sophisticated sounding AI butler, JARVIS would be proud. He gently patted the sacks' side. "Very important stuff. Needs my undivided attention when we get back home."

"Speaking of which, here we are." The coach stopped outside a row of houses, all painted white with black window frames and doors. Watson hopped out and paid the driver as Tony grabbed his bag and climbed out. "Welcome home, old boy." Tony cocked his head towards him and smiled. Watson started up the steps, upon reaching the door he stopped, turned and extended his hand with a grin. "Well, come on."

Across the road a pair of brown eyes peaked over the top of a newspaper, softening as Watson exited the coach but widening in shock when the doctor's companion stepped out. _**Impossible! But how?**_ Watching the other flex and stretch from being cooped up in a tight space made a flush quickly cover their cheeks remembering the last time those muscles flexed in a completely different scenario entirely. As soon as Watson and Tony disappeared into 221B Baker Street Sherlock lowered the paper lightly tugging on his false beard. Folding the paper under his arm Sherlock started down the street and around a corner. If he was going to find out why Stark was here he would have to be sneaky and employ the services of a woman, more specifically, The Woman.

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**_More soon. _**

**_How do you think it's going so far?_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Should have put this in first chapter: I don't own the characters, they belong to MARVEL and Sir ACD respectively. I just like playing with them! :)**_

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Chapter 3.

Temporal displacement can be a real bitch sometimes.

Tony's first day at Baker had started so well and, a little scary, if he was honest. As soon as he and John entered the house he was attacked by an older woman carrying a tea tray. The woman then went on, for ten minutes, commenting on his lack of empathy to others, the state of his health and finally his lack of personal hygiene.

"Mrs Hudson, maybe you could give us a minute?" Watson suggested. Mrs Hudson gave them a death glare before huffing, turning tail and disappearing through a side door. Watson pinched the bridge of his nose, "She just needs time to…" He turned and frowned, "Holmes?" He was standing in the middle of the hallway alone. There came a soft whimper from under the stair-case, he followed the sound and found Tony sitting on the tiled floor huddled around his sack. "Holmes?"

Tony looked up at him with wide eyes, "She nearly gave me a heart attack! Damn it, John, warn a bloke next time, eh?" Taking Watson's offered hand Tony held it tight as they headed up the steps. Tony buried his face against Watson's shoulder, "Hell, she's scary and she lives here with us?"

"No." He felt Tony's smile, "She lives here with _**you**_."

"Wha-?" Tony lifted his head, lightly bumping his nose under John's jaw. "Seriously?" John nodded with a chuckle. Tony wailed softly, arms going around the doctor squeezing him tight. "Don't leave me with her! She's a mad woman; I mean who attacks a defenceless man with a tea tray?"

"Apparently she does. Here we are: home sweet home." Watson nudged the door open with an elbow and Tony got his first look inside the great detective's life. "I made sure that everything was exactly as you left it, minus the rotting frog cadavers on the window sills, of course."

_**Cadavers? Frogs? What the hell?**_ "Uh… thank-you." He edged forward into the room. His eyes taking in every detail; especially the mess. Every available surface was covered in papers and trinkets, clothes draped every-where (was that a shirt hanging from a mounted deer head?) and a couple of black boards full of equations (some of it gibberish, some of it advance mathematics and some of it looked like Latin. Latin?) _**Guess I found the source for my own sense of organized chaos.**_ He smiled stopping at the bay windows, noticing that they nearly floor to ceiling, and looked out into the street below. He was so engrossed at the sight that he didn't noticed John was beside him until he felt the warmth of his arm brushing his. Tony leaned closer, testing the waters, and was a little surprised when John started petting his hair curling his fingers in the short locks at his nape. "Hhmm…" He could get used to this…

And then the side effects of time travel came into play double time. Tony thought he'd slept them off at the ware-house but apparently not. One minute he was leaning against Watson, the next…Welcome to blurry town.

"Holmes!" John carefully moved him to the nearest chair. "Are you alright? What's wrong?" He leaned closer trying to catch what Tony was muttering about and frowned picking up the odd word or two, "Temper what?"

"Temporal displacement. Feeling a bit _**blah**_." Tony closed his eyes head lolling to one side. "Thought I slept it off. Didn't…should've…better…"

"Come on." Watson gently pulled him up and staggered, thanks to the combined weight on his bad leg, towards the bed-room. Tony grumbled all the way trying to get free. Once inside Watson lowered him onto the bed and started to undress him. Off came the shoes, cap and waist-coat. Watson began un-buttoning Tony's shirt, he got the first two undone when Tony suddenly grabbed his wrist. "Holmes…"

_**Shit, the bandages!**_ "M'fine. Light bruising…better in no time." He tried a smile. "No worries, Watson."

"No worries." John repeated, though he didn't look convinced one bit. "I'll get you some water, you get into bed. Doctor's orders." Tony gave him a shaky salute as he left. While in the bath-room John rinsed a tumbler filling it with cold water. He was worried, normally he could just about make sense of Holmes's rambling, but the nonsense he was sprouting sounded like… Watson shook himself; he wasn't going to think that. Holmes had been doing so well the last few months; surely a little bump on the head couldn't cause him to slide. His grip on the glass hardened slightly, John couldn't bear it if Sherlock had to go back inside the asylum again. The first time was hard enough. "Pull yourself together, John." He muttered. Heading back to the bed-room a tender smile graced his lips at the sight that greeted him. "Well look at that."

Tony was curled up under the thin sheets snoring softly. John gazed at him affectionately placing the glass of water on the table next to the bed. Sitting beside his friend he reached over and lightly brushed away loose locks from his forehead. Tony grinned sleepily and leaned into the touch mumbling under his breath.

"Doctor?" Watson looked over his shoulder finding Mrs Hudson standing in the door-way.

"He's fine, resting now." Getting up he offered her a kind smile while retrieving his cane. "Just check on him every few hours. I would stay… but I have to get home. Will you be OK?"

Mrs Hudson nodded, "I've baby-sat before, Doctor. I'll be fine." The two of them exited the room softly closing the door behind them.

* * *

Tony slept through to the next day. He woke up in the morning groggy from the lack of food, and more importantly, any form of caffeine. Thankfully Mrs Hudson had left him a pot of tea and a plate of sandwiches in the living area. Once his belly was full Tony explored Holmes's rooms, stopping at the black boards to make the tiniest corrections to his equations, sorting and putting back books onto the shelves and in the process surprising Mrs Hudson when she checked on him during the afternoon. He just gave her the trade-mark Stark smirk loading her up with a basket of dirty washing and pretending to smack her butt for the fun of it. Mrs Hudson let out of small yelp frowning at him, Tony thought he was in trouble but she leaned over, lightly pinching his cheek a playful twinkle in her eyes as she left.

Tony grinned at her retreating form; maybe she wasn't so bad after all.

That night, after making sure Mrs Hudson was to bed; Tony pulled the brief-case out from its hiding place and cleared a space in the middle of the room. He took a deep breath and knelt typing in his code into the side panel. The case bleeped in acceptance and opened up, a little slower than normal he noticed, once opened fully he put his feet into one of the waiting halves. The suit started to build up around him stopping at his waist. He took the other half, lifting the front of the case to his chest. The segment locked over the arc reactor with a click, and the top half of the suit expanded covering the rest of him in the familiar red and gold armour until only his head was naked. Tony stepped around the room and headed into Holmes' bed chamber, where a full –length mirror stood, turning this way and that. _**Ooh, that doesn't look good.**_ "Jarvis?"

"**Yes, sir?" **

Tony stepped closer to the mirror. The suit was in one piece, which was good, the down side was that some of the panels were blackened and some were bent and dented from the de-pressurization of the worm-hole. "I need a full diagnostic. Scan the suit and give me the good news when you're done."

JARVIS did as ordered, **"The suit appears to be in working order and functioning at 85 per cent. I suggest that you refrain from using it for long periods of time until full re-charge is complete."**

"Yeah, you know what, let's do a test flight." Before the AI could protest Tony flipped the face-plate down, moved to the back windows, inching them open slowly and quietly. Looking down into the back yard and the alley he nodded seeing nobody around. Backing up he quickly glanced behind him, finding no-one there, he grinned. "Jarvis, get ready to power the jet boosters at 2.5 per cent as soon as I clear the window. Got it?"

"**Sir?"**

"No time to explain, just be ready. OK…" He took a running start straight for the window swan diving out of it. "Now, Jarvis!" The boots fired up, Iron Man arched away from the ground and propelled upwards. Tony whooped wildly soaring over the rooftops, weaving in and out of the smoke exhaled from the chimneys. The HUD scanned away: buildings and roads popped up in their little windows. Tony's grin grew as one particular building—_**Landmark**_—popped up.

Moments later Tony sat back on the slanted tiled roof of the one and only Big Ben. He sighed looking up at the clear night sky, mapping the stars and their constellations. "It doesn't get any better than this, Jarvis. Look at the view!" He zoned out for a minute, losing him-self to the quietness before Jarvis spoke,

"**Sir, with the threat of the Iron Woman still lingering, maybe you should scan the area in case she's out of stealth mode?"**

He waved a dismissive hand, "Yeah, yeah, I'll get right on it." and wiggled into a more comfy spot. He could stay like this for ever. JARVIS, it seemed, had different ideas. The HUD lit up with all the bells and whistles, scaring the crap out of him. "Geez!" The noise grew deafening, "Oh, all right!" He took off in a straight line, the noise and light dimming out as he climbed, until they were normal levels again. "Thanks pal." Once he was at the right height he hovered above the giant clock, arms plastered to his sides palms down to keep him steady. "Jarvis, do a scan for any traces of N-Z-E and repulsor tech in the local area."

"**Of course, sir. Scanning for traces of N-Z-E and RT in the local area..." **Tony waited and then came the calm reply,** "No traces found." **

_**She's good,**_ Tony mused,_** maybe too good.**_ "OK, let's go some-whe-" his sentence was cut short with a worried shout as the RT heart flickered and his boot-jets stuttered causing him to drop several feet. Tony re-routed power and gained control again. "Jarvis, what happened?"

"**Due to the time-travelling are there some safety issues with the armour. I strongly advise you cease searching for tonight."**

Tony grumbled. He didn't want to cut the search short but making sure his only ride home was safe was top priority. "You got it, buddy. Back to Baker Street."

"**Course plotted, sir." **Iron-Man nodded in approval and started to descend following the course in the HUD. The journey on the way back gave Tony time to think a few things through. There was something he desperately wanted to try (being Tony Stark) and was just coming up with a rough plan of attack when JARVIS spoke again, **"I have made blue-prints with compactable replacement parts and recommend that you get started on the minor repairs ASAP."**

"That's great, Jarvis. Just put it on my 'To do list'."

"**Sir, I do hope you're not going to do what I think you're planning to do."**

"I need my fix, Jarvis."

"**You are impossible, sir."**

Tony just grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter4

Irene Adler stood outside the oak door leading to Holmes' chambers, fingers twisting around the envelope she had been given that morning, the conversation she had shared still playing in her head.

_(That morning…)_

"_I have a favour to ask and I trust you'll carry it out with-out fuss."_

_She looked up from her cup a tiny smile creeping onto her red painted lips, "You have but to ask, dear heart. You know I can't refuse you."_

_Sherlock snorted around his pipe. "I need you to deliver these notes," He nodded towards the table between them: on a silver tray sat two identical tanned envelopes. Irene picked them up and read the names of the intended reciprocates. _

_Adler looked up from the notes eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. You're leaving a note to __**yourself**__?"_

"_I am." Holmes puffed on his pipe, taking a long drag he pulled the spout from his mouth and pointed it at her. "I hope my trust has not been misplaced in telling you the whole truth, Irene. What I told you, in the strictest of confidence, has come to pass." Irene's confusion was plain to see on her face, he sighed. "Listen closely; I fear that an imposter has taken my place at Baker Street. I need you to go over there and find out what he knows, use your charm," He smirked at her making her blush, "use every trick at your disposal. Once you have him believing that you think he's the real me deliver the note that a __**client**__ wishes to meet him here...Then, my dear, go to Watson's practice and give him his message. You will then come back here and help me prepare." He leaned forward on his elbows staring right into her eyes. "Can I trust you to do this?"_

_She stared right back. "Of course you can. I'm honoured. The idea that there are two of you…" A pleasant shiver ran over her. "I can't wait to meet him."_

"_You will soon enough." Holmes stood and disappeared behind a screen. His shirt, under-shirt, trousers and braces hung over the top, "Did you get my disguise?" Adler smiled grabbing a large box and pressed it into his hands. Holmes flipped the lid and peered at its contents, "Is it padded?"_

"_Of course. The outer layers are light and the boots have low heels for easy running. The other items you asked for are in the smaller box on the table." She stood back to admire the way Holmes's back muscles moved as he slipped into the under-layers, helping him to button up when he couldn't reach._

_He stepped closer to the large mirror set just aside the screen. He nodded in approval at his reflection. "This will do." He turned back to face her spreading his arms wide. "What do you think?"_

"_I think I'm jealous." Raising a hand she grinned squeezing the air a few inches from his body, "Honk-honk!"_

* * *

With-out knocking Adler pushed opened the door a crack and peaked in. She blinked finding the rooms in various states of cleanliness. There came muffled sounds from behind the closed door, she knew led to the bed-room, and then it inched open.

"… so what do you think, JARVIS?"

"**The idea you've proposed is acceptable. For a short term solution."**

Adler jumped hearing the ghostly voice, quickly covering her mouth so not to give away her position. "I knew you'd like it." The owner of the voice stepped into the room and Adler's eyes widened. It _**was**_ Sherlock! The imposter: in scruffy trousers, bare footed and top-less continued to talk to thin air while flapping his hands around in wild gestures. He stopped in front of the fire-place lifting his hands to his chest, it was then Adler saw it was covered in slightly stained bandages. She watched with growing fascination as Sherlock's double un-clipped the safety pin, the strips of cloth unravelling and pooling at his feet. "Oh, thank GOD!" He hissed rubbing the sore muscles along his spine. "I fricking _**hate**_ covering this thing up. It's a thing of mesmerising beauty. All blue and shiny…" Adler pressed herself closer while keeping the door steady. The man turned and she was blinded by blue light. It took her a second to realise that the light was coming from the imposter himself.

She had seen enough. Tip-toeing away to the top of the stairs Adler counted to five in her head and started walking back towards the door, making sure her heels clomped on the bare floor. " I know you don't like surprises," she said loudly, the noise of hasty shuffling inside told her she'd been heard and she tried to hide her grin, "but…" palms pressed to the door she pushed it wide open and threw her arms up, cocking her hips slightly. "SURPRISE!" She strolled into the chamber cheerfully, and not giving him a chance to compose himself, grabbed the sides of his face and planted a big, juicy smacker on the doubles lips, cooing "Miss me, Sherlock?" as she pulled away.

Tony's face was squashed between slender gloved hands, red lipstick smeared on his mouth and wearing a stunned expression. _**Hot damn! **_The lady in question was a hottie: luscious dark hair, sparkling dark eyes, a full and generous looking mouth and a figure to die for. And she knew Sherlock! Tony was torn between feeling jealous of the over-friendly relationship the two shared, or hurt that Sherlock's affections were directed elsewhere. But he decided to listen to his gut, and his gut was telling him that she was trouble.

Game on then.

With effort he managed to pry her grabby hands away, stepped back with a frown and crossed his arms. "What can I do for you?"

"Oohh. Don't be that, dearest. I come bearing good news." She reached in the neck-line of her jacket but Tony lashed out catching her wrist before she could grab anything. Her lips curled up into a half smirk. "Still suspicious?" She asked sweetly.

Tony eyes darkened for a second, "Have you given me a reason not to be?"

_**Oh, you're good.**_ Adler thought. Not taking her eyes off Tony her hand continued its journey. Fingertips catching what she wanted she heard Tony's huff of breath as the back of his hand brushed against the delicate skin of her neck. With-drawing she produced a cream coloured envelope and waved it in his face. "I'm here on business, Sherlock. I have a client for you. A friend of mine wishes to engage your services."

"A client? For me?" The lady nodded holding out the envelope to him. He snatched it from her stood and with his back to her, tore it open and read its contents quickly:

_**Dear Sir,**_

_**I have recently arrived in London and have heard, from my friend Ms Adler, of your amazing talents for solving the unsolvable. I will get right to the point, I am in need of your expertise on a very important, and personal matter that I cannot (for legal reasons) put in this letter.**_

_**If you are available, I'm staying at The Grand hotel and would like to meet. **_

_**Any help would be greatly appreciated.**_

_**XX.**_

Tony narrowed his eyes at the letter and then lowered it. He turned to Ms Adler, now knowing her name, and cocked his head. "So she's a friend?"

"Yes. A very dear friend of mine."

"This note is very vague. No name and no reason why I should go. For all I know it could be a trap."

Adler gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Might be. Then again it might not." She sighed and got up, dusting down the front of her dress. "You decide to go or not. I've done by bit. But, for what it's worth, I think you should take it," she gestured around the room, "it looks like you're in-between jobs. Could be just the thing to stimulate the old grey matter." Tony didn't answer just fornwed. Another shrug," if you're gonna be doing the silent thing, I'm leaving."

She was half way to the door when she felt a hand wrap around her upper arm. She paused and turned slightly. Tony gazed at her hard, as if he was reading her. When he was done a smirk slowly formed on his mouth. _**My God**_, she thought, her knees going a little bit weak, _**You're beautiful.**_ Returning the smirk, her heart fluttered just a bit when Tony's eyes darkened and then he spoke. "I will take the case, Ms Adler, but know this," the hand on her arm tightened, "If this is a trap I will hunt you down. Understand?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way." She pulled her arm free and reached up to fix her hat. "Come to the Grand as soon as you're able. Go to the front desk and ask for me." Leaning close a second time she planted the faintest of kisses on his lips and walk away smiling. "See you, Sherlock."

She left the room leaving Tony behind, gaping like fish.

* * *

A short ride and Adler knocked the door to Doctor Watson's surgery. A smartly dressed maid opened it and allowed her inside. She sat in the waiting room while the girl went to fetched Watson. When he came in and saw her sitting there his expression turned thunderous.

"What do you want?"

She stood reaching into her purse. "Don't be like that, Doctor. I have a message from Sherlock."

Watson's expression switched from thunderous to confuse. "Has something happened? He seemed fine the other day. Just back from a case in fact."

"No nothing's happened and yes he's just back from case. Been back for quite a while actually."

"Then why are you here?"

"For this." She pressed the letter into his hand and turned, "I'll see my-self out. Good-day, Doctor."

Once she was gone John entered his study, sat in his chair and sliced open the letter. He unfolded the paper and read.

_**My dear Watson,**_

_**The case with the rainbow coloured brooch turned into a wild goose chase. It turned out that, ironically, the butler did it. With no other cases to keep my-self busy with I decided to return early have been back in London for just over a week. **_

_**I wanted to surprise you with dinner and a show and made my way to Baker Street to change when I spied a cab pull up outside our home and you leaving it. I wanted to rush over and tell you all but I halted when I saw your companion step out behind you.**_

_**Now read what I've put next very carefully, John, I trust you've read my paper on the advances of medical research: it is possible to change a man's appearance so he looks like another. Before you think that he's an impostor, he isn't. His name is Tony Stark…yes, Watson, THE Tony Stark. I don't know how he got here or what he plans to do; I need you to find out on my behalf. I give my consent, before you ask, for you to try all and any means possible. Use you charm or just beat him to within an inch of his life or (if you like) pump him for information.**_

_**I'm counting on you John.**_

_**Yours Sherlock.**_

John stared at the letter. The man he saved in the alley was a fake? How could he have been so stupid?

He glanced at the wall-clock; he still had a few hours before he finished work. Re-reading the note he nodded, his mind made up and called in the young maid. Scribbling a short note he gave it to her with instructions to find a page boy and get him to deliver it to Mary. John knew Mary wouldn't like it that he had, once again, favoured Holmes to her but this time it was serious.

He just didn't know how serious.

* * *

**I'm not happy with this one, but spent so long on it so I'm posting it as it is.**

**FYI: smut glasses are needed for the next one. You have been warned. M.x**


	5. Chapter 5

**A long one and M-rated. You have been warned.**

* * *

Chapter 5 

Watson stood nervously on the steps leading up to 221B. He quickly re-read to message from Holmes that Ms Adler had passed on with conflicting thoughts. He wanted to follow Holmes' instructions… but which ones? One half of him wanted to burst in and beat the impostor to within an inch of his life, the other wanted to get to know him and find out what he knew (preferably without pumping the fake Holmes for information—his words exactly).

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves John entered the house laying his coat and hat on the side-board and made his way up the stair-well to Holmes' chambers. He knocked and then knocked again when he got no answer the first time. There came a muffled voice saying "It's Open!" and he turned the handle, stepping inside.

An odd smell flooded his nose, one completely different from what he was normally used to. He frowned spying the newly cleaned space. His eyes were draw to the desk that was covered with oddly shaped metal pieces and then to a chair that had a cloth covered tray placed upon it. "Holmes? Holmes, what are—OH!"

Tony grinned patting the space next to him on the floor. "Watson! Come on in and shut the door." He turned back to the bowl and stirred its contents. Hearing footfalls coming closer he raised a single finger. "Strip to your shirt sleeves, no collars or ties. Take off your shoes, socks and leave your cane on the table." The gloop in the bowl was just about ready, dipping a finger in and sucking at the brown goo made him smile, oh he was going to have fun tonight. "Pass the tray will you, old boy?"

Watson carefully placed the covered tray down before joining Tony on the tiger rug. Peering into the bowl, at its contents Tony was stirring, he blinked, "Does Mrs Hudson know you've stolen her private chocolate stash?"

Tony smirked coyly, "Not as such, and I didn't steal it. I _**borrowed**_ it." John looked at him doubtfully. He shrugged looking into the bowl, "Hm…needs something more. I wonder…" His eyes roamed the room, to the book case and spied a half-full bottle of amber liquid. Hopping to his feet, snatching said bottle and removing the cap he sniffed and jerked his head back, "Good God!"

"Trouble?" John looked up from his seat on the rug. He was stirring the gooey chocolate like the obedient soldier he was, even though Tony hadn't asked him to. He grinned at the bottle, "I see you've found Mycroft's present. He always gets the good stuff."

_Mycroft?_ Tony racked his brain, wishing that he'd read some of Pepper's books. "Err, yeah…Mycroft…" He narrowed his eyes a bit. "Birthday?"

"Case." Watson clarified and then nodded towards the bowl. "Now will you tell me what is going on?"

"Of course." Tony snatched up two glasses, plonked himself next to John on the rug pouring them both a drink. Handing John his he set the bottle down close-by. Taking a quick gulp of his drink he shifted closer, maybe a little too close, to John and gave him the Stark smirk, pinching the corner of the tea-towel he drew his arm back. John's blinked at the tray, the many small bowls on it and their contents ranging from halved strawberries, grapes, apple segments, ginger-snap cookies and sponge slices. "This, my dear, is something call fondue. It should be done with bread and cheese. But…" He took an apple segment, dipped it into the melted chocolate before lifting it to his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss at the crunch and sweetness combo. "This version is much more fun."

John stared at him; mouth agape, for long minutes before downing his glass in one and then reaching over for a ginger-snap, dunking it in the chocolate mix. Tony hid another smirk behind the rim of his glass as John's expression mellowed, leaning back against the couch with a low groan of happiness.

Yep, Tony was **definitely **going to have fun tonight.

The night rolled on, the drink was flowing, the atmosphere calming and then John blurted out into the quietness, "I know who you are!" before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Tony tilted his head his way slowly raising a brow, "Oh you do, do you?" his words were slightly slurred, which wasn't surprising since he was on his fourth…fifth glass? "How much do you know? Hm?" John lowered his hand to speak but Tony stopped him with a raised finger. "No. Don't say a word. I know just the thing!" A gleam entered his dark eyes. He quickly divested both of them of their drinks, earning him a confused look from John, and sat back down beside the doctor, again a little closer than necessary. "How 'bout a game?"

"G-Game?"

Tony leaned against his shoulder, "Yup. My version of Kiss and Tell. Wanna know the rules?" At such close range he saw Johns gulp and nuzzled in, "C'mon, John…humour a guy, huh?" he wrapped a hand around John's bicep and squeezed. The muscles beneath his fingers bunched and relaxed, _**Oh…yes please**_ he thought nuzzling in again. "Well?"

A nod and then a shaky, "O-OK."

A pleased hum left Tony's throat. "That's the spirit. The rules…the rules are simple." He lifted his head bumping his nose against the underside of John's jaw and felt him jump. "You ask question. We kiss. I spill beans."

"What! I'm not going to kiss you!"

He pouted and whined, "But, Jjoohnn…" wrapping his arms around John's torso and squeezing tightly. "Please? Look at me; I'm a good looking guy. I'm god's gift to men and women alike." Tony pulled back, his 'game-face' in place and deepened his pout, "Please?"

John pinched the space between his eyes like he was getting a migraine, "You're drunk."

"And your point? Oh, c'mon! Just one tiny kiss (and maybe a night of drunken, wild sex. He added silently.) That's all I want and I know you've thought about it too. Don't lie to me 'cause I've seen the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking. You can't wait to pull me close…or bend me over and-" the rest of his words were cut off by John's hand firmly over his mouth.

"Good lord, don't you ever stop?" From behind his hand he saw the skin around Tony's eyes crinkle and knew he was grinning. He slowly lowered his hand; it fell limply to his side. "Holmes, I…" Tony was on him in an instant, it was supposed to be a brief kiss but Tony couldn't stop himself. He pressed his lips more firmly against John's and felt him give in (just a tiny bit.) he pulled back signature smirk in place. John just stared wide eyed at him.

"That's one way to shut me up." The genius murmured softly. "But there are others." Getting shakily to his feet he grabbed John's hands and pulled him up. Thanks to their over-indulgent of alcohol John smacked into him nearly causing them to fall back down, John quickly put his arms around the small of Tony's back. Tony's hands wrapped around John's biceps again and squeezed, John responded by flexing his fingers: his eyes had gone very dark, almost black. Tony let his hands wonder, up John's arms to around his neck bringing their faces close. "Bedroom?" he whispered.

* * *

Things got heated pretty quickly. Clothes were shed and left in a messy trail from door to bed. John found himself pushed onto the pile of un-made sheets while Tony quickly rooted around the bed-side cabinet extracting a vial of oil and a handful of rubber-bands. John's eyes widened at the small objects, Tony turned to him slipping out his shirt (keeping the under-shirt on the hide the reactor.) nibbling his lower lip.

"You still with me, soldier?"

For his answer he was pulled forcefully onto the bed, John's mouth attacking his with such determination he had a hard time keeping up, not wanting to break contact for even a second. But he had to when he felt John's hands skim down his back, his hips to land on his butt. It was with heavy regret he tore his mouth away panting, "Wait…John, wait…" He reached over for the vial, nearly knocking it over in his haste, snatching up a rubber coil. Settling comfortably astride John's hips Tony looked doubtfully the band, "I hope these are the right size 'cause…" he looked down between them and smirked, "_**damn!**_" Covering his fingers with the oil he reached behind, going up on his knees and, tilting his head back with a sigh, slipped two in, his hips jerking. After a short time his head fell forward, his hooded gaze met John's shocked one and he smiled filthily, "You…You OK doing it like this?" John could do nothing but nod, lay back and watch as Tony poured more oil onto his fingers, slick him up before gently rolling the rubber on in a well-practiced move. John's breath was coming out in huffs when Tony pushed the oil to one side, lifting himself once again, holding him in position with trembling fingers as he sank back down. Both men screamed: one in pleasure, one in pain. John held onto the sheets for dear life, Tony slumped forward hands on John's stomach.

"John…" Tony breathed, mouth open and slack, "John…I can't…" Tony shifted his hips and groaned deep feeling the burn turn to pleasing fullness. His hands slid up from John's chest to his neck, ghosting around the expose column of skin. "Fuck me…" He growled roughly. John, muted by the immense sensations of being inside the compact yet gorgeous body above him, merely nodded prying his hands from the sheets and putting them gently onto Tony's waist. "Yeah…" Tony grinned down at him drawing his knees closer to John's body and started rocking in the cradle of his hips. "Was right 'bout you, wasn't I? Couldn't wait to bend me over and take me."

John closed his eyes with a low groan, fingers pinching the tight skin over Tony's hips before sliding up; lightly tugging at the hem of the under-shirt he was wearing. The play-boy's rhythm stuttered for a second. Chocolate brown met sea blue in a steady stare. "Please…" John whispered, shaky fingers disappearing under the shirt creeping up his sides. "Can I see? I want to see you…" A soft expression crossed his face. "…Tony."

Tony eyes widened to the size of small plates. _**Crap, he really **__does__** know who I am.**_ Locking eyes with John he searched for any underlining threats if he _**did**_ reveal himself. John looked back; the expression on his face didn't change and he slowly nodded. Hands leaving John neck to the hem of the shirt Tony inched it up, past his stomach and off. He gave John a smirk fingers fumbling for an edge of the giant sticky plaster/Band-Aid on his chest. John was biting his bottom lip, eyes glued to it as he peeled it back. The room was bathed in the soft blue hue of the arc reactor, now it was Tony's turn to bite his lower lip as John drank him in: every inch, bump and scar…every imperfection. John's eyes, which had gone huge, finally left the light embedded in his chest to flicker up to his face. The smile had returned and Tony wasn't sure what that meant.

He found out a split second later: John pushed himself up into a sitting position arms going around Tony's back. Tony's own arms curled around the doctor's neck, teasing the soft locks at the nape. John sighed peacefully nuzzling in and then started nipping gently. Tony arched his neck with a short gasp his back following as John went lower and lower. With gentle nudges John managed to get Tony to move his legs so he was sitting in his lap. The movement caused him to sink just that little bit deeper making Tony whimper at the sensation. John smiled sympathetically at him. "It's OK. I won't move until you're ready. Just tell me when." Tony nodded swooping in for a quick kiss, planting kisses over John's face and temples before returning him to his neck. John picked up from where he left off: nipping and then soothing the areas with his tongue. "You're beautiful." He murmured against the skin just above the reactor.

Tony shivered. "Please, John…" Tugging the doctor back to his mouth he left biting kisses urging him to fall forward. They fell backwards onto rumpled covers; John bumped his forehead on the arc-reactor's casing with muttered oath, Tony nearly smacked the back of his head on the bedstead. They shared a look before bursting into helpless giggles that quickly turned into moans when mouths were reattached…

Thank God Mrs Hudson was a heavy sleeper.

* * *

A shadow entered Baker Street in the wee small hours of the morning. It ascended the stairs heading straight to Holmes's chambers. Opening the door as quietly as it could it made its way inside, stopping briefly at the fireplace taking in the bottle, the half empty glasses, the silver tray and large bowl full of a hardened brown substance. The shadow's eyes drifted around the room, at the desk by the window and edged closer. Picking up sheets of parchments brown eyes narrowed at the drawings of what looked like a suit of amour with hastily written notes here and there.

A sound startled them into dropping the papers and turning with a hand sliding into a pocket for their pistol. The sound had come from behind a slightly closed door that led to the bed-room. A smirk flickered across chapped lips as they moved forward, fingers curling around the door and inching it open. At the sight that welcomed them the smirk grew.

"My boys…my sweet boys…"

Tony and John were sleeping at the foot of the bed. Both on their fronts (Tony slightly on his side) a thin sheet twisted around waists and tangled among legs. Tony, it appeared, had managed to nab a pillow and was hugging it under his chin. John was draped over Tony's back, seemingly just as content to use _**him**_ as a pillow, his fingers drawing patterns over twitching muscles at Tony's waist as he slept. The shadow stepped to the beds' edge and leaned over the slumbering men. Lightly running slightly calloused fingers through dark and then wheat tone hair they left ghostly kisses on the tops of heads and backed out.

"I'll be seeing you two very soon. I promise."

Sherlock looked at the two people who meant the world to him, smiled softly and left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

**Dear readers, you have been amazing and taken this story to your hearts. I thank-you with kisses and hugs. Hopefully next up-date will be another double within the next few weeks. M.x**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Mrs Hudson was on the war-path.

Her face was taunt and her mouth draw into a thin line as she made her way up to Holmes' chambers. How dare he steal her sweets! She needed those little balls of chocolate heaven for when he had his broody days and the poor walls took a battering, or priceless glass got shattered. She reached the door, hands poised over the handle when she spied the hand-written note pinned at eye-level. She had to squint at the neatly curled script, taking a moment to realize that it was Holmes' hand.

_**Dear Nanny, please **__**do not**__** disturb. The doctor and I would like to suffer in peace. We will call **__**if**__** we need you. SH.**_

She growled low in her throat, fingers curling around the brass handle. Damn him to hell! She was going to go in there like a tornado and retrieve what was left of her chocolates. She knew, from previous nights, that the doctor took one of his remedies (after a heavy drinking session with Holmes) like a good little boy and slept it off in Holmes's bed while the detective was on the tiger rug normally suffering with a mind-splitting hang-over and crawling on all fours in the dark, whimpering like a hurt puppy.

Her hand was just about to press down on the metal when she noticed the second line of neat writing:

_**P.S. the box below is for you. I believe they are your favorite. There's no need to kill me now!**_

Under the words Sherlock had drawn a smiley face. Mrs Hudson glanced down; sure enough there was a small, round box with a pink bow. She picked it up, carefully untied the ribbon, prising the lid off and peeked inside. "Oh, Mr Holmes…" In a nest of duck egg blue tissue paper sat twelve balls of chocolate. She lifted one to her lips and took the tiniest bite, a pleasing smile flickered across her face as her teeth broke the milk chocolate skin: the outside of each one had been lightly dusted with a fine layer of dark cocoa, inside, the candy ball was filled with her favorite strawberry cream. Finishing the treat Mrs Hudson looked fondly at the door, the note pinned to it and then the box in her hands. With a contented sigh she shook her head, turned and shuffled back down the stairs muttering under her breath something that sounded like, "Boys."

* * *

John nuzzled into his pillow breathing deep. His arm edged over the mattress until his fingers slid over a patch that was still luke warm. His eyes snapped open as the memories of the previous night **and** the early hours of the morning came forward. Scrambling up into a sitting position the thin sheet pooled at his waist, "Oh God." He muttered holding his head in his hands for two reasons: the first for betraying Mary and, if he was honest, Holmes. The second because of the pounding ache in his skull. How much had he drunk last night? Slowly lowering his shaky hands John looked around the room finding no sign of Tony…

Tony. His name was Tony. Not Holmes but Tony.

He leaned over the side of the bed coming up with a crumpled shirt and slipped it over his head. Gingerly getting to his feet John shuffled over to the door and inched it open. Straining his ears he could just make out a faint conversation.

"Now that's done we can get on with the more important stuff. JARVIS?"

"**I'm not sure stripping the suit was a good idea, sir. Can you re-build with such primitive methods?"**

"Ah, JARVIS! Don't bum me down. Of course I can! Or have you forgotten I'm a genius?"

"**I haven't forgotten."**

Tony sighed, "OK…hope this works."

"Tony?" He turned hearing the voice from the doorway and instantly felt all the blood in his body rush south. _**Jesus…**_ Standing in the doorway leading to the bed-room stood John. He was wearing a wrinkled shirt, and by the looks of things, little else. His hair was mused and sticking up all over the place, his blue eyes were soft and sleepy. "Tony?"

"Hey, Doc. Sleep well?" John flushed and Tony was delighted to see that it when all the way down. "I slept like a baby. Nothing wears me out like a good, hard shag." The flush deepened and John looked away. "Aw… Did I embarrass you?" he shrugged half-heartedly. "Sorry."

"Who are you talking to?" John inched into the room slowly, his eyes darting around in case something jumped out. "What are you wearing?" He asked when he was close enough.

Tony looked down: he was dressed in a pair of loose fitting trousers held up with a belt, and one of Holmes' under-shirts. But it was what he was wearing _**over**_ that had captured John attention. Ah…

It was like this: while John was still sleeping Tony had taken the time to strip the suit, getting it ready for re-modeling. He was wearing the Iron-Man gauntlets, boots and controlling bandolier, the exposed wires gathering at his chest and plugged into the Arc reactor. "I'm testing something out. You wanna help?"

John eyes snapped to his, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Come closer." John did until they were nearly toe to toe. Tony smirked, "A bit more." John's cheeks reddened shuffling forward again. Tony's smirk widened he held out his arms, "Come on. On you get."

"Seriously? What if something goes wrong?"

"Nothing will go wrong. If I've done my math right, which I always do, and JARVIS is watching my back-OH! You haven't met JARVIS yet." He shook his head and then pointed to the table where a gold and red mask sat amongst the piles of books and papers. John hadn't noticed it when he walked in, now he had he gave Tony an unconvinced look. Tony just smirked smugly. "JARVIS, say hello to Doctor Watson."

"**Good-day, Doctor."** John jumped, actually _jumped_ into Tony's arms upon hearing the ghostly voice. Tony pulled him up so his feet gently rested on the boots, his body flush against his, slowly drawing John's arms up and around his neck. **"We are ready, sir."**

"That's good." John wiggled against him into a more comfortable position, trying to keep the talking head in sight, "That's **very** good." He purred huskily. John edged his head back slightly with narrowed eyes. A sheepish look crossed his face. "You keep wriggling. Now, hold on tight." John nodded resting his head on Tony's shoulder, fingers clutching the thin fabric of the under-shirt. "Okay, JARVIS. Bring it up to 2 per-cent. Nice and slow."

"**Powering up."**

Slowly but surely the two rose into the air. Tony had his arms out, keeping his balance like a tight-rope walker. Once they were air-borne and a few feet away from hitting the ceiling, Tony nudged John who lifted his head a little. "Check it out." He murmured gesturing with his head. John blinked and looked down. Instantly his blue eyes widened, a tiny whimper left his lips and he clung tighter. "Hey. It's OK. John, it's OK."

"But…but we're flying!" He blinked and said it again much slower, "We're flying." He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "We're bloody flying!" His blue eyes sought out Tony's brown, "Are we safe? Aren't we too heavy?"

Tony chuckled, "Naw. Like this we weigh about the same as if I was wearing the completed suit. We're fine." Manipulating the gauntlets they shifted around little by little, Tony's grin growing every time John made small sounds of admiration. They nearly crashed into the ceiling a couple of times, John reaching up and running his fingers-tips over the swirling decorations. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"It's amazing! I can't wait to see the finished suit. Is it as Holmes described?"

"What did he say about it?"

John smiled bashfully, looking at him from under his lashes, "He said it was a mechanical marvel. The most beautiful, poetic thing he'd ever seen." Tony was silent for a second and then leaned forward, softly brushing his lips against John's. "What was that for?" He asked when they parted. Tony just shrugged and ordered JARVIS to power down and get ready for repairs.

* * *

Later in the day, after they had dressed, John was munching on some left-over fruit and biscuits standing over the papers of the Iron-Man suit trying to make some sense out of them. The bedroom door opened and Tony walked out in Holmes' attire, and raised a brow. Tony grinned bashfully at him grabbing a handful of grapes stuffing them into his mouth while slipping on Sherlock's over-coat and favorite black fedora.

"Where are you going?"

"Out. Some people believe Holmes has returned and is ready to work. We must keep up appearances." He fished about in his pockets and produce Adler's letter. Upon reading it John's expression turned from confused to alarm in a matter of seconds. "Problem?"

"Irene Adler is dangerous and tricky. You need back-up…let me go with you. I could-"

Placing his hands on his shoulders Tony squeezed firmly, "Don't worry about Ms Adler; I think I can handle her. John, you need to stay here. You're the only one I trust at the moment with my suit. But if you really want to help, you'll need this," He handed him a torn piece of paper. "This is a list of things I need to fix my armor. Rumor has it Sherlock has his own _**'little**_ _**police'**_ maybe they can help you." He kissed him once and headed for the door, "Oh, by the way, if you get bored after that you can always play chess with JARVIS." Grinning, he left the room leaving John eyeing up the mask apprehensively.

* * *

Arriving at The Grand a while later Tony knocked on the door that the receptionist directed him to and waited…and waited. He knocked again, a little louder this time, and pressed his ear to the wood. He jumped back when the door flew open and Adler stood in front of him, hands on hips and eyes glimmering. Her eyes landed on him and her lips curled into a crafty smile.

"You made it!" Checking her watch she pouted a tiny bit, "A little tardy, Sherlock. You know better than to keep a couple of ladies waiting."

Tony ducked his head, "I'm sorry, Miss Adler. I was-"

Adler quickly cut him off. "Well you're here now and that's all that matters. Come on in." She held the door open as he walked inside the room. The room it-self was tastefully decorated: dusty pink walls with pictures in golden frames dotted here and there. A lush carpet, that matched the cream colored furniture, lined the floor with a red circle rug in the rooms' center, and at the far end stood a queen-size bed. A lone door stood in the corner and was slightly a-jar.

"Where's your friend?" He asked.

Irene nodded to the door, "Getting ready. You know us ladies, never seen without our war-paint. Drink?" She thrust a glass of red wine into his hand and took one for her-self. She grinned at him before taking a sip. Tony eyed the glass, shrugged and gulped down a mouth-full. Irene sighed with a head shake placing her glass on the table. "Never learn, do you?"

Tony frowned at her before placing down his own glass, "I don't…" His vision blurred a little; he shook his head to clear it and tried again. He tried to focus, leaning on table for support. Dizziness quickly over-took him and he stumbled, fell sideways onto the couch and slid down, a limp rag-doll on the floor. "You…drug…"

The door in the corner opened. Adler's friend came out, and seeing Tony slumped against the couch, hurried over to sit by his side so he didn't fall over. "Dear God, woman! What have you done?" Tony's head lolled to the side, landing heavily against their arm. His eyes, glassy and dazed rolled around in their sockets trying to focus. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

Tony struggled to keep his head up. He looked over to where the voice had come from and squinted. In his confounded state he could just make out blurred features: a mixture of dark and light tones. Limply he reached up and out stroking soft skin he grinned woozily, a second later his eyes closed and he slumped forward nuzzling into a more comfortable position against their chest. Soon he was snoring loudly.

"Well, now what?" Irene grinned looking over her friends' shoulder. She turned quickly following her gaze, blinked, and turned back. "You've got to be kidding me." Adler giggled, taking one Tony's arms wrapping it over her shoulders, heaving while the other pushed. "You're one twisted lady." Together the two of them staggered across the room and got to work.

* * *

**About 80 per-cent happy with this one. Took so long to get done I'm leaving it as it is. Mx.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Dear readers, sorry for the delay, the next few are in the pipe-line. Anyway enjoy this chapter, Mazz84.X**

* * *

Chapter 7

"_You have my word. I won't tell him what transpired here."_

"_I know you won't, you know what will happen if you do, Irene." A rustle of cloth, jingles. "Your payment, my dear."_

Tony drifted in and out of consciousness. During his drifts he caught snippets of a conversation in hushed voices and tried to make any kind of sound, but only coming up a faint whimpers before the darkness claimed him once again.

When he woke up again the first thing that raised a red flag was that he couldn't see a damn thing. The second was that when he tried to move his arms he found he couldn't. He growled softly straining against his binds, shifting about (on a bed of some kind, thank-you brain.) which made him notice the third thing...

He was buck-ass nude.

He growled again, a little louder this time. Somewhere in the darkness he heard the distant sound of clinking, rustling of cloth and light footsteps that stopped just out of his reach. One side of the bed dipped and Tony jerked away sharply, but he couldn't move away enough thanks to the ties on his wrists.

He tried for an English accent but what came out was far croakier, "Let me go." He shifted against his bonds again. "I'm Sherlock Holmes and I demand that you release me this instant!"

"You can't be Holmes," the bed dipped further as the other person slid closer. Tony jumped feeling their breath against his ear. "Sherlock would never let him-self get so out of shape." He was ready to answer back when hands, encased in soft leather, cupped his jaw and the pads of thumbs rubbed against his lips followed by the sweetest of kisses. Tony jerked back in surprise with a muffled protest but one hand held him steady while the other journeyed down his neck, his collar and the planes of his chest where they stopped. Gloved fingers teased around the edges of the sticky-plaster and he whimpered, trying to jerk away for a second time. Both hands came to cradle his chin again. "Sshh… it's OK. We're alone now, it just us. It's OK, Tony. You're safe." Tony froze. Though the voice was slightly higher, more feminine, there was no way he could ever forget the husky tones that underlay it.

"Release me. Please."

"No, not yet. Here, drink this." A glass was pressed against his lips, he refused to open them. There came a sigh, "You've been drugged. You need to replenish your bodily fluids. Tony, please drink." The rim of the glass pressed more firmly until Tony couldn't help but open his lips. The hard glass clinked against his teeth, he was about to grumble in annoyance but stopped when the cool liquid flowed into his waiting mouth. He drank it all smacking his lips when he finished. "My, my, such a thirsty kitty." The bed dipped again, closer this time and Tony felt the cloth over his eyes being pulled away. "Time to open your eyes, kitty-cat." When they saw Tony's face scrunch up and his hands clench around his bonds they pressed a finger against his lips and he relaxed, "Do it slowly…slowly, there you go."

Tony gradually opened his eyes to the soft glare of the lights. Little by little the blurry image in front of him became clearer. He blinked a couple of times and then a tender smiled appeared on his mouth. "Hello." The person sitting beside him frowned and shot off the bed. Tony's smile faded, "What? No kiss?"

"No." They crossed arms and the frown deepened. "What are you doing here? How did you even—you told me it was impossible! How did you do it?"

"I'll explain it to you someday."

"I don't understand."

Tony shrugged, "It wasn't me. I accidently got involved. But once I realized what was gonna happen I had to come here to save you…_**Us.**_"

Sherlock balled his fists tightly, "You shouldn't have risked it!"

"You would have done the same!" Tony snapped back but smirked a second later, "I'm not sorry I did. If I get to see you like this." He wiggled his brows, "Very nice."

There came a sigh, "It's my disguise, fool. I saw you with Watson and came to the conclusion there cannot be two of us running around London." They moved closer slipping the gloves off. "You know who I am and know that I am the Master of Disguise." Crawling up the bed until they were sitting astride Tony's waist, reaching up and running hands up his arms to his chained wrists and back down again they grinned, "I see that you've been taking lessons, Tony." One hand teased the edge of the tape, Tony sucked in a breath, with a loud rip the tape was pulled violently away. Tony let loose with a shout of pain, his back arching. "But, as your teacher, I have to say I'm very disappointed in your progress. You might have managed to fool some simple folk of London: Mrs Hudson, my dear Watson and Ms Adler—up til a certain point, of course— but there is something you need to work on if you're going to survive here." Though his expression was neutral, waiting for an explanation, Tony's eyes glinted with mischief. They sighed again drew nearer, stopping inches from his lips and spoke in quiet tones. "You're fooling no-one with that accent, Mr Stark."

Tony smirked again giving them a quick once over. "Funny. I was gonna say the same about that dress, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock Holmes looked down at himself. The dress he was currently wearing was a simple two piece in dark navy. Sneaking a peek at Tony from under his lashes he could see the other was panting slightly, his shining chest heaving with every breath he took. He smirked this time, "Maybe you should do something about that, hmm?" Reaching over to one side, Sherlock made quick work of the locks and sat back while Tony pulled his hands free of their binds, rubbing the feeling back into them and wincing. "Are you OK? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm fine. I quite enjoyed that actually." Tony sat up, arms going loosely around Sherlock's waist nuzzling against his neck. "Now, you said something about that dress? More specifically: you, out of it." Sherlock nodded, scooted back and undid the buttons of the jacket slowly, loving the way Tony's eyes darkened to black pools. Jacket off Tony let out a whimper, moving forward burying his face against the corset Sherlock was wearing underneath. "Fuck… I want you."

"I know. You're completely obvious about that."

"Don't care." Nimble fingers traced the corset's laces, pulling the fabric apart revealing the pale and scarred flesh beneath. Throwing it to the floor Tony pulled Sherlock up onto his lap once again, hands firmly on his hips. Sherlock smirked moving his hips against Tony's. Tony groaned loudly, hands slipping under the bunched material of skirt, the waistband of -"Jesus! What are you wearing? Granny Pants?"

Holmes snorted, "Master of Disguise, Stark. The devil is in the detail." He suddenly stopped Tony's hands for wondering any further and fixed him with a stern look. "Need to keep it in one piece. No rough housing."

"What do you suggest? I'm too impatient to be careful."

A dangerous gleam entered the detective's eyes. "I recommend a quick release." Tearing the light wig from his head Sherlock pushed Tony back onto the pillows and shifted further down the bed, fingers stroking lightly on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Tony moaned loudly head rolling back onto the pillows. Sherlock nipped and sucked until he reached his goal. Settling into a more comfortable position he pulled back, "Watch me, Tony." Tony lazily lifted his head and seeing Sherlock between his knees whimpered. "Hm… let's see if you're as loud as I remember." He licked Tony once: root to tip and the other whined and swore under his breath. "Not good enough, Stark. I want to hear you scream." With-out warning the detective lifted Tony's legs over his shoulders and took him into his mouth in one go. Tony let loose with a hoarse shout and bucked his hips.

"Not…gonna…last long." Was all he could get out between harsh pants. "I need…I need…" Sherlock was showing no mercy: he hollowed out his cheeks and took him deeper. Tony's back arched against the bed-sheets, one hand searching blindly for something to hold on to. "Oh God, just like that!" He screamed, not caring if the whole bloody hotel heard him.

* * *

Afterwards they lay in tangled sheets, Sherlock's head resting on Tony's shoulder, his finger-tips dancing around the metal casing of the arc reactor. Tony's hand was a warm weight on his hip; the billionaire flexing his fingers in time with his breathing. Sherlock dropped his own hand and wrapped his arm around the solid mass of Tony's torso and sighed.

"You OK?" Tony shifted under him; Sherlock craned his head up awkwardly, narrowly catching Tony on the chin. The genius lounged against the pillows, one hand tucked behind his head. He raised a brow at Sherlock's nod. "You're sure?"

"Yeah…I think so. I just…" He grinned, "I can't believe you're here."

Tony's smile was soft, "I'm here," his fingers-tips slowly trailed up the detective's spine, into the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. With a gentle tug Sherlock shifted up until they were noses a part, "and I don't intend to leave any-time soon." _**Not until I find Iron-Woman.**_ He added silently. Fingers knotting Tony pulled him in for a tender kiss; it was more a light brush of lips than a real kiss but this time he didn't want to rush anything. Sherlock melted against him with a sigh, eyes closing and shifting again so he was lying on top. "So," he started, as they parted, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes, "You ready for another round?"

"You haven't changed a bit, Tony." Sherlock chuckled with a head shake.

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Mr Detective. I've learned a few new tricks." Sherlock shot him an unconvincing look which quickly turned into one of shock and a squeal (though he would later deny it) as Tony grabbed him by the waist and flipped them over so that he was now on top. "You want me to show you?"

Sherlock nodded shakily. Tony grinned filthily in response, kissed him once on the mouth slowly making his way down his neck and further. When Tony reached his stomach, Sherlock closed his eyes with a groan letting his head fall back on the pillows…

* * *

**Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

**I'm happy to say that Mazz is now on YouTube!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I would like to dedicate parts of this chapter to my dear Wonderland (you know who you are.)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 8

The sky was bright and the city of London was busy when a cab pulled up outside 221B Baker Street and a man and woman stepped out. While the man paid the driver the woman stood curb-side making sure that her dress was tidy and that the veil covering the lower part of her face was securely fixed. As soon as the cab had rounded the corner the man sighed in relief, the lady took his arm and together they walked up the steps and entered the house.

Once inside the man looked around hesitantly, "That mad land-lady of yours isn't gonna hit me again, is she?"

"Nanny should be out shopping. We're fine for now." The lady hissed as they climbed the stair-well. The man nodded following her a few steps behind. Reaching the door leading to Holmes' bed-chamber they stilled hearing faint voices. The woman cocked her head; a frown was visible through the thin veil. "Are we expecting company?"

"Don't think so." He replied kneeling down, peeking through the key-hole. A second later he stood with a grin in place and a finger to his lips He pushed down on the handle quietly ushering the lady inside. Once safely in the room, with the door was shut softly behind them, the lady smiled at the scene in front of them.

John was seated at a desk, that wasn't covering in papers and books, a determined expression on his face. Propped up opposite him was the red and gold mask of Iron-Man. A chess board sat between them. Oblivious to the newly arrived couple John leaned over to make his move, "Knight to Queen Five." He sat back with a tiny smirk.

The mask was quiet, then the eyes lit up with ice-blue light and JARVIS said coolly, _**"Pawn to Queen's Bishop Three."**_

John nodded and moved the white piece to the right spot. He rested his chin on his hand examining the board. Taking in the black and white pieces positions he suddenly grinned and confidently moved a black piece, "Knight to King Seven- Check!"

The two by the door glanced at each-other as JARVIS calculated his next move. Both of them studied the board, possible moves and out-comes before getting to the only solution at the same time. The man winked at the woman as the eyes lit up again and JARVIS calmly uttered, _**"Queen takes Knight. I believe that's Checkmate, Doctor Watson."**_

"What!" John stood over the board tracing his and JARVIS's moves with a finger. With a loud groan he slumped back down running a hand over his face. "How many is that now, JARVIS?"

"_**Games won by JARVIS: 28. Games won by Doctor Watson: 2"**_ JARVIS bleeped quietly and then, _**"Good-day Mr Stark, Mr Holmes."**_

John nearly knocked over his chair getting to his feet. "Tony? You're back!" Crossing the room John gathered the inventor in his arms in a tight hug. "I've been so worried! What happened?" Tony smiled into the embrace nuzzling against John's neck purring softly. Behind them the lady let out an annoyed cough, they parted and John gave her a quick once-over before smiling, "Better than your last attempt, old boy." He took the lady's hand in his in a fierce hand-shake. "Good to have you back, Holmes."

Sherlock stepped back, peeling away the veil revealing a smirk. "It's good to be home." Walking around the room the toe of his boot caught something with a soft clang. He looked down confused and then at Tony. "Doing a little redecorating, Stark?"

Tony returned his smirk, "The good Doctor did some shopping for me." Coming to his side Tony held up the sheet of metal, one of many around the room, and tried to bend it. The sheet curved under the light pressure and then slowly bounced back when he let go. "Ooh, John!" He cooed, earning him a blush from the Doctor, "You do know how to spoil a gal."

"Shut up, Stark." John mumbled going bright red. Holmes found it highly amusing. The Doctor took out his pocket watch, glanced at it and then at the small clock on the mantel. He let out a sharp gasp. "Gracious, my watch has stopped! What time did Mrs Hudson say she'd be back, JARVIS?"

"_**I have been motioning Mrs Hudson's movements over the past few days…"**_

"JARVIS!" Snapped Tony while John pushed Holmes in the direction of the bed-room, helping him out of his costume along the way. Tony grabbed the hat Holmes tossed his way effortlessly and jabbed it onto his own head. "We're on a clock, just tell us."

"_**Very well, Sir. Mrs Hudson is expected to return to Baker Street at precisely 12:43 pm. You have two minutes before she gets home." **_

"Shit!"

* * *

Mrs Hudson adjusted the brown-wrapped bundle under her arm and apologised to the young lady she'd bumped into on the way home. The girl nodded shyly and ducked down a nearby side street. With a shrug Mrs Hudson climbed the steps to 221B and struggled to open the door. After stumbling inside she allowed herself to slouch against the wood. Making her way to the kitchen at the back of the house the door-bell rang.

"Nanny!" Holmes shouted. The bell came again, "The door, Nanny!"

Mrs Hudson sighed, wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door; her mouth dropped open seeing the man on the top step. "OH!"

"Good morning, miss." Dressed in one of Holmes' better suits Tony smiled at her and tipped his hat. "Do I have the right address for Sherlock Holmes? Is he in by chance?"

"Antony?" At the new voice Mrs Hudson looked over her shoulder and Tony looked up with a small grin. Holmes had appeared at the top of the stairs in his tatty dressing gown, his hair mused up and face covered in grime. He took one look at Tony and broke into a manic smile. "Antony!" Holmes took the steps two at a time, rushed up to the new arrival and hugged him dearly. Mrs Hudson stared dumbly at the open display of affection. "Your letter said Friday." He turned to the woman between them, "Don't just stand there, Nanny! Tea for our guest."

"But…he… and you…"

Holmes rolled his eyes with a sigh, "Antony is a cousin-hence the strong resemblance- on my Mother's side, over here from America for a short visit. Now tea!" Mrs Hudson squeaked and nodded, turning tail and disappearing muttering under her breath. Holmes turned back to Tony, "Think it worked?"

Making sure the door was shut and nobody was about, Tony leaned forward bumping his nose against Sherlock's, "I think I'm gonna like here, _**cousin**_." Sherlock blushed a brilliant cherry red.

* * *

The night was cold as a dark figure slipped down the back roads. Stepping in puddles, and other revolting substances, it didn't pay any notice that the ragged hem of its cloak was getting soaked as it made its way to its destination, hoping it wasn't one of many that had proven to be false and rapidly causing the short fuse burning inside to deplete quicker. It passed a group of drunkards on its way, who in their intoxicated state mistook it for something else entirely, they cat-called and hollered. The figure stopped, the hood of the cloak twisting as they turned their head.

"Oi, what a purty thing like—HIC—you doing out?"

"Yeah…youse need a man on yer arm. Right, boys?"

The figure clenched their fists tightly under the flowing sleeves, _**"And you think you are adequate for such a task?"**_ Hearing nearing foot-falls they growled deep in their throat. _**"Trust me, **__gentlemen__**, you are not."**_ She waved good-bye, ready to leave, when a grubby hand grabbed her wrist. _**"Un-hand me."**_

The thug chuckled darkly, "Aw, sweetheart. You can't do that, can't tease and run. Not fun." He tightened his hold and jerked her back. His expression turned to one of fright, behind him his friends let loose with a collective gasp as the hood fell away revealing her face. "What…"

"_**I warned you, fool."**_ She hissed and lashed out with her other hand. A sharp crack sounded in the tiny space followed by his scream; the drunk slumped to the ground cradling his broken hand. She looked down at the pathetic sight in front of her and reached out, curling her metal hand in the fabric of his shirt. The man gave a helpless moan of pain as he was yanked onto his knees. _**"You are scum-bags so maybe you can assist me. Now listen closely: Where can I find Professor Moriarty?" **_The hold on the drunks' collar tightened and suddenly her smell receptors were over-loaded with the strong and pungent scent of urine. _**"Answer me and I might spare your life."**_ She snarled softly. He shuddered, shaking his head trying to recoil deeper into his chest, in the dim light the others had managed grab a hold of some iron bars and wooden planks for weapons. She growled again pulling back a hand; fingers spread wide showing the RT palm that glowed bright red,_** "Where can I find Moriarty? Answer me!"**_

In his drunken state, recognising a threat when he saw one, the lout took a shaky breath. "He's not 'ere." He managed to croak out. She looked down at him, if she could bare her teeth she would have, and loosen her hold. "He went away. Europe or summit. Th…that's all I know. I swear!"

She stepped back and he scuttled away, hands lowering to her sides she stood still and accessed her available options. Since arriving her main directive was to find Sherlock Holmes and destroy him. That had proved unsuccessful since the Consulting Detective had disappeared with-out a trace. With no clue to his whereabouts she had been forced to slum it around London's rat-holes seeking out known locations for Professor James Moriarty. Now receiving the news that Moriarty was unreachable and unable to give her orders, had left her to fall back on her third directive.

**Find Antony Edward Stark…who would lead her to Sherlock Holmes and destroy them both. **

A beep resonated deep within her chest cavity. _**"Mission priorities re-evaluated. New mission…Confirmed. Returning to Baker Street."**_ She stopped up-loading her new location midway when something flashed at the bottom of the HUD**_ 'Directive 13.'_** Quickly running through her programming she found no reference to the unknown directive and took it as a slight system error; she would do a system check later. After the up-load completed she quickly realised something of vital importance. _**"For mission completion to be a success; the rules must be followed."**_

"What rules?" One of the other men gasped out holding up his bar like a sword. The group backed up towards the mouth of the alleyway. "And are you, a she-devil?"

Eyes burning deadly red she walked towards them confidently, torn hem flowing around her ankles. _**"I am more than you can begin to comprehend. I am the shadows, I am the nightmares…" **_The men shared confused glances; she titled her head slightly, regarding them and stepped closer._** "I am Iron-Woman. And as you're so interested in the rules, they are simply this…"**_ Lifting her arms the sleeves of the cloak fell away, the small panels on the fore-arms slid up with a whirl exposing the mini-missiles underneath._** "No witnesses."**_ Spying the arsenal the eyes of the men widened in fear, they turned to run, falling over each other in their haste. She advanced, locking onto the multiple moving targets easily.

A second later the night air filled with piercing screams and thuds of fallen bodies.

* * *

**Yeah! Iron-Woman is here! But what is Directive 13?**

**The next (or the one after next) will be dark. You have been warned!**


	9. Teaser Time!

**Due to personal reasons up-dates are delayed but I do have a teaser just for you. Enjoy!**

* * *

Holmes slumped against the pillows, a half bottle of wine hanging loosely from his hand and a pipe between his lips. Suddenly there came an odd noise from behind closed doors. Brows furrowing the detective pushed him-self up and off the bed, placing bottle and pipe of the dresser, he gently pulled the door to the main chamber ajar and looked out…

He blinked in surprise, "What the deuce?"

The Iron-Man armour was standing in front of the dying fire. At his startled out-burst it turned and fixed its gaze upon him. Homes tried to calm his rapidly beating heart: just like the first time he saw the armour in motion-It gave him warm tingles. The armour looked at him intensely for a couple of seconds and then, to Holmes' utter surprise, bleeped and stepped forward.

"_**No RT detected. Identification confirmed. You are Sherlock Holmes." **_ The armour continued to advance until it was inches away. Holmes blinked against the glare of the eyes as the face leaned closer. _**"Where is Antony Stark?"**_

"I-I don't know. Wait…" Brown eyes narrowed in the red shine given off by the eyes. **What? Red?** In the dim light of the fire Holmes quickly looked the armour up and down, even in the shadows it looked darker…almost black. Wait… It _**was**_ black armour…the only time he had seen any black armour was in the future when he had battled… "I know you…" He whispered softly, the armour backed off a little, just enough that Holmes could make out the table behind it. His suspicions were confirmed spying the dismantled red and gold Iron-Man suit. "You're not Iron-Man. Who are you?" He demanded.

* * *

**Huh? You like?**


End file.
